Zeke stood at the rail that bordered the boardwalk, the Deep River rushing by beneath his feet, the feeling of suffocation slowly dissipating as he breathed in crisp, clean air.
He was aware of a rustle behind him and he thought for a second it was Morgan, and his heart gave a strange jolt. But it wasn’t. It was his sister who came up and leaned against the rail next to him.
She didn’t say anything and he was grateful; Izzy knew he needed silence sometimes.
They stood there for a long moment, letting the silence sit between them.
The last of the tourists were heading back to the boat, moving slowly along the dock to where it was moored, pointing at the scenery and taking pictures, chatting to each other. It was clear from the volume of excited conversation that they’d liked what they saw, which was going to bode well for future visits.
“So,” she said after a while. “You didn’t tell me you’d seen Dad. I had to hear it from him.”
Zeke stared at the rushing water, his shoulders tight. He didn’t want to explain himself, but she was his sister and he’d felt bad about not mentioning his Houston visit to her. “I didn’t want to involve you.”
The sun gleamed on Izzy’s long, sleek black hair, glossy as crow feathers. “Well, you should have. You know I can deal with him better than you can.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“I get it, Zeke. But if you’d come to me, I might have been able to get him to see reason.”
He hadn’t come to her, though. He’d wanted to solve the issue himself. Which had been arrogant of him, not to mention shortsighted. He could tell himself all he liked it was because he didn’t want her to worry about him, but part of him knew it was because he hated to be reminded of his limitations. And Izzy had often had to be the mediator between him and his parents back when they’d been kids. She’d argued for him, defended him, explained him because she’d understood him better than they could.
Yet while he’d appreciated that, he’d also hated it too. He was supposed to protect and look after his little sister; she wasn’t supposed to protect and look after him.
“You wouldn’t,” he said curtly. “Dad wants the oil.”
Izzy sighed. “Yes. He does.”
Everything inside Zeke tightened. “What kind of offer are you presenting?”
“You know what kind.”
Of course he did. He’d worked for the company once, had been the person who’d made those kinds of offers. The ones no one turned their noses up at, that made people’s eyes pop out of their heads, that made them rush to sign on the dotted line.
“You don’t have to,” Zeke said. “You can take back a no.”
“I can’t. It was all I could do to get the concession to come alone. Dad wanted me to bring the whole team here, but I said it would be better if it was just me. Less threatening. I did have to promise to present the offer to the whole town, though.”
He wanted to tell her that they wouldn’t take it, but what did he know?
All he knew was that his own father had played him and now this place and the land that it sat on was under threat. That was his fault. Not only had he accepted his father’s empty promises at face value, believing him when he’d said that he’d leave Deep River alone for Zeke, but he hadn’t gone to Isabella. She could have at least confirmed that what their father had said was true. Or not.
Yet he hadn’t. He’d wanted to believe his father had cared enough about him to respect his request.
“It’s a lovely drive down this way,” Izzy said into the silence. “I rented a car in Juneau.”
“That’s a long way.”
“I know, but I wanted to see a little bit of the scenery.” She shook her head. “Alaska’s beautiful. I can see why you like it here.”
“It is,” he replied tightly.
She hesitated a second. “Zeke, there’s another reason I wanted to come here by myself. Dad cut you out of his will. He’s going to leave the company to me.”
A small shock jolted down his spine, and he wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief. No, it had to be relief. God knew he’d never wanted the company for himself.
He turned finally to look at her. “He chose you then.”
Her lovely, delicate face was serene, betraying no emotion whatsoever. “I know the business and I can play his game. He wanted you, make no mistake but…”
“But I was defective,” he finished.
A flicker of emotion crossed her features, like a ripple in a glassy pond. Then it vanished. “That’s not true.”
That wasn’t the Izzy he knew. The Izzy he knew had been stubborn and a bit wild, spirited and passionate, and not shy about letting people know her opinions. Now, it was like she wore a mask made of porcelain, smooth and hard and completely expressionless.
You should have been there for her, but you weren’t.
He ignored the sadness and the regret tangling in his gut. “Yeah, it is.”
“You’re not defective. You never were. You just didn’t play the game Dad wanted you to play.” Finally, she turned to look at him and he saw it at last, the hot spark of her spirit glowing in her eyes. Faint and half-hidden, but there, definitely there. “I know you. You want to take responsibility for this, but there’s nothing you could have done. Like you said, he wanted the oil and that’s all that matters to him.” She shifted against the rail. “Anyway, my plan is to change things once he retires. Change the company. Change how we do business. Shift our focus from oil and onto something more sustainable.” She gave him an almost-smile. “You might be able to give me some ideas about that.”
Zeke wasn’t sure what to say. Izzy was the one person in his childhood who’d always given him the truth. She’d never asked him to pretend. She’d never asked him to lie. She always meant what she said.
So if she said he wasn’t defective, that he even might have something to offer, well then…what could he do but believe her?
A bit of the tension inside him began to evaporate. “Good,” he said after a moment. “And I do have a few ideas.”
“Thought you might.” She put her hands on the worn wooden rail, her fingers long and delicate. A ring gleamed on her ring finger, a perfect square-cut diamond that had to be worth thousands. “You should visit more. I miss you.”
There was a heaviness in his chest, a regret no amount of her telling him not to feel bad was going to shift.
He looked away from her, staring out across the river, at the mountains on the far side. The clouds had thinned enough to see the mountaintops capped in snow. In another few months, fall would arrive, and then a few more months after that, winter. This far south and this close to the coast, there wouldn’t be as much snow as there was in the north, but there certainly would be some.
It would be pretty in winter. He’d probably like it.
Why the hell are you thinking about that?
He didn’t know. He wouldn’t be here after all.
“I’m sorry, Iz.” His voice was rough. “I should have stayed in Houston.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” she said firmly. “You hated it there and you weren’t happy. You’re much better at all of that outdoorsy kind of stuff.” She gestured at the scenery around them. “And you’re happy here, right?”
He thought about the question. Was he happy here? He wasn’t sure. He was more at home here, in the great outdoors, than he was anywhere else in the world, but was he happy? What did happy even feel like anyway?
It feels like waking up in Morgan West’s bed.
The thought felt like another of those electrical jolts, pulsing straight through him, making him think of that morning—and it had only been that morning—coming to consciousness in that pretty white bedroom. The scent of vanilla wrapping around him, her warmth still trapped in the cotton sheets.
He’d felt so good. Better than he had done in a long, long time.
His heart tightened with that unfamiliar sense of longing again.
“Zeke?”
He was conscious of Izzy’s gaze on him, his sister waiting for him to reply. She wanted him to be happy, he knew. She cared about him. And this wasn’t a conversation he’d ever wanted to have with her because he couldn’t tell her that he was sure he even knew what happiness was.
But he could now, couldn’t he? He’d had a taste of it in Morgan’s arms.
“Yeah,” he said shortly. “I am.”
Warmth covered his hand and when he looked down, he saw that she’d put her small hand over his, a brief, affectionate gesture. Izzy had always been a hugger, but he wasn’t. That was another thing his mother had never understood about him, forcing him to hug people he didn’t want to hug, pretending to smile at people he didn’t like. “You’re always so rude, Zeke,” she’d said angrily. “Why can’t you be polite like a normal person?”
Unlike his mother though, Izzy had bothered to find a compromise that pleased both of them.
“Good.” Her voice was soft.
Zeke turned his hand over and held hers for a moment, warm and small in his. Giving her back some of that affection.
“I’m sorry about your friend Caleb,” she said.
Zeke gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s okay.”
“So is Morgan West his sister, then?”
He let go of her hand. “Yeah, she is.”
Izzy looked at him for a long moment, a slight curve to her mouth. “You like her, don’t you?”
Hell.
Zeke said nothing. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t, but he didn’t want to tell Izzy the truth either. Because what he felt for Morgan wasn’t as simple as “like.” In fact, he didn’t have a word for what he felt for her. It was too complicated and he didn’t want to talk about it.
The curve of Izzy’s mouth deepened and she turned away. “I might have a wander around. I’d like to check out some of the stores here.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“I’ll probably get a room at the Gold Pan.”
“You need me to get you settled in?”
“No, I can handle it.” Izzy glanced back at him once more. “I like her, just FYI.”
He wanted to tell her that whether she liked Morgan or not, it didn’t matter, because there was nothing between them. But Izzy had already wandered off in the direction of the hotel, leaving him standing by the railing with only the seagulls for company.
* * *
Morgan didn’t see any sign of Zeke when she stepped out of the Moose, so she headed to Mal’s first to talk to him about getting people together for a meeting. She had to listen to him rave about the number of tourists in his store and how this could only be good for the town and then field a number of complaints from other locals also in the store, who weren’t quite so enamored of the new tourist activity.
But once that was done, she really needed to find Zeke.
She had to tell him about the meeting and convince him he should speak, but she also wanted to make sure he was okay. This entire day must have been hell on wheels for him.
However, it soon became clear he wasn’t anywhere in town. Which meant he’d either gone back to her place to resume his repairs or he’d gone somewhere else.
Not wanting to ride all the way home only to discover he wasn’t there, Morgan decided to detour down to the docks. Kevin Anderson was tying up his boat, and since he’d been there most of the day, she asked him if he’d seen Zeke.
“Yeah, I saw him go off down there.” Kevin pointed to the path that wound along beside the river. “What about that pretty woman he was with? You know her?”
“No,” Morgan lied. Now was not the time to get into gossiping with Kevin.
The path was one she knew well, since playing beside the river was something a lot of Deep River kids did. There was a beach area not far along it, with a hollowed-out stone that generations of children had made their own over the years.
She paused at the beach area, but Zeke wasn’t there. Where on earth was he? The path led on beside the river for a few miles, then petered out, so surely he couldn’t have gone far. There was nothing up that way anyway except for Bridal Falls, but you needed a boat to get up that far and it seemed clear Zeke hadn’t taken a boat.
Maybe he’d gone for a hike? Or was that where his campsite was?
She moved along the path, keeping her eye out for any signs of him. There were a couple of game trails that led off into the bush, that if you didn’t know where to look weren’t easy to spot, but Morgan knew this area like the back of her hand, and so she knew where to look. It was likely he’d followed one of those.
She’d done a bit of search and rescue, knew how to track someone; she spied some bent grasses near the entrance to one of the game trails, plus the faint imprint of a boot sole.
She walked along it, into the shade of hemlock, spruce, and cedar, the sound of the river receding, the burble of a small creek beside the trail singing gently beside her. The morning clouds had gone, leaving the sun warming on her back, the shade of the trees providing a welcome relief. Squirrels chittered from the branches, and deep in the underbrush she caught the big shadow of a moose.
The game trail was narrow, threading through the bush, getting thicker and thicker until she was pushing aside undergrowth, tall spruces towering about her, then suddenly it opened out into a little clearing.
A small tent had been pitched in the middle of it with a firepit nearby bordered with smooth river stones. Zeke sat by the firepit, carefully laying kindling down in preparation for lighting.
So she’d been right. This was his campsite.
He didn’t turn around—obviously he’d heard her approach, which she wasn’t surprised about since she hadn’t been very quiet.
“What do you want, Morgan?” His voice was low and deep. He sounded…tired.
Her heart squeezed. He’d left the Moose so abruptly, and she knew it had something to do with the way everyone had looked at him and with the responsibility he’d taken for the situation Deep River now found itself in. With his so-called failure.
And by now she knew that he walked away when he didn’t know what to do or what to say, when things got too much for him, and she couldn’t blame him.
If she were him, she’d probably want to walk away too.
Isabella had said she was going to talk to him, and Morgan didn’t know what kind of relationship they had, but she really hoped it was better than the one he apparently had with his father. She hoped that his sister could see what Morgan saw when she looked at him.
“I thought you might want to know what we discussed,” she said, moving slowly through the grasses, coming over to where he crouched beside the fire.
“If I wanted to know what you discussed, I would have come to ask you.” He reached out to the small pile of sticks sitting on the ground next to him and picked a couple up, placing them neatly on the tower of kindling he was in the process of constructing.
He liked silence, she knew that. And if he was here by himself, it was because he wanted to be alone. She didn’t have a problem with that, but…even bears needed company sometimes.
“That’s okay,” she said after a moment. “I can go if you want. Or I can just sit and watch you build that fire. I promise I’ll be very quiet.”
He didn’t reply.
But she was getting the hang of Zeke-speak by now, and she knew his silence was likely because he didn’t know what answer to give her. If he’d really wanted her to leave, he would have said, so maybe she’d just sit down next to him and wait until he told her to go.
Moving over to the fire, she sat down cross-legged without a word.
He didn’t look at her, continuing to build his fire with the kind of casual competence that spoke of years of experience.
She found it unspeakably attractive.
The silence deepened, peace descending over the campsite. Every so often, the heavy tread of that moose sounded, along with the odd cry of a bird and the angry complaining of a squirrel.
There was something meditative about watching Zeke—his careful, precise movements, his hard, carved features set in lines of concentration. He used a flint and steel from the pockets of his jeans to light the fire, the flames catching and instantly burning well. Then he methodically began to feed the fire with small sticks.
Morgan took a glance around the campsite, noting the tidiness of everything. The tent firmly zipped closed. The small collection of kitchen implements stacked neatly under the fly.
Suddenly she had the almost burning desire to see him out in the elements, out in the true wilderness. To see him where he was most comfortable. What was he like hiking a trail? How did he construct his campsite? He flew planes too, and Cal had mentioned once that he did a lot of climbing. What did he look like climbing a mountain?
What did he look like when he wasn’t tense and grumpy? When he was away from people? What did he look like when he was free?
The desire clenched tight inside her, turning into something more intense, something hotter. Did he look like he had the night before in her arms? Had he felt free then?
Zeke fed the last of the sticks into the fire and then abruptly he looked at her. “What do you want, Morgan?”
And this time her answer was nothing but the unvarnished truth and she gave it without thought. “You,” she said.
The expression on his face stole her breath, the flames reflected in his black eyes. “Why?”
“Because last night was special. You made it special. And I want to make you feel as good as you made me.”
“No,” he said flatly. “This isn’t about keeping score. You don’t have to give me anything.”
A small bolt of shock went through her. “I’m not keeping score and I’m not doing this because I have to—”
“I don’t want your pity, Morgan,” he interrupted implacably. “I don’t want anyone’s pity.”
Her stomach twisted. What? Oh God. Did he really think that?
“No,” she said, horrified. “That’s not why I’m here. I was just—”
“What?” He was angry now. “You’re going to tell me it’s not my fault again? That I shouldn’t take responsibility for my actions because I’m defective in some way? That I should be excused like I’m a little kid who doesn’t know any better?”
Her eyes filled with unexpected tears. It felt like he’d uncovered a vulnerable, raw place inside her, a place she hadn’t known was there. She’d just wanted to make him feel better like she’d just wanted to make her mother feel better. Like she’d wanted her father to feel better. Like she’d wanted Cal to feel better too.
But her mother had found her clingy, hating Morgan’s constant need to be by her side and how sensitive Morgan was to her moods. She’d hated Morgan fussing, and so after she’d gone, Morgan had tried not to be suffocating. Tried to be more no-nonsense and practical, but the need to take care of everyone had never gone away.
“No,” she said thickly. “I don’t think that at all, and I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.”
“Then why?” He rose to his feet in powerful, fluid movement. “Why the hell are you here?”
Morgan swallowed and then suddenly she was on her feet too, facing him, the flames of the fire between them. And she knew in that moment that what she’d told herself about being here for him wasn’t true at all.
“You’re right,” she said suddenly. “It’s not about keeping score. And no, actually, I’m not here to make you feel good. I’m here because I want you. Because you make me feel so good and one night isn’t enough.” She blinked hard and forced the words she’d barely been able to admit even to herself out. “I need more than that. The sex was great, Zeke, but it’s you I’m here for. It’s you I need, Zeke Montgomery.”
For a second he didn’t move and she didn’t know what was going to happen. Whether he’d turn and walk away or sit down calmly beside the fire again as if nothing had happened.
But then he stepped around the blazing fire. And his big hands were on her hips and he’d jerked her to him, and his mouth was on hers, full of ferocious hunger.
It was the most exciting kiss she’d ever had in her life.
Or at least, the most exciting since he’d kissed her the night before.
She melted against him, her fingers curling into the warm cotton of his T-shirt, the heat of his mouth burning everything away, including that vulnerable, painful place inside her.
Yes, it was him she was here for. It had always been him.
He tasted of coffee and a little bit of chocolate, a dark, rich flavor that had her desperate for more. She kissed him back, harder, letting him know that he didn’t have to hold back, that she could take anything he had to give, and more, she wanted to take it. Because she was beginning to think that she could be just as wild and uncivilized as he was.
She nipped at his bottom lip, making him growl and his hands tighten on her hips. Then she was being pushed down onto the warm, dry grass beside the fire he’d been building so carefully only moments before, his big, muscular body covering hers. His hands were everywhere, pulling urgently at her uniform, ripping it away from her. She helped, wriggling out of the confining material without hesitation, desperate for the skin-on-skin contact that he was obviously desperate for himself.
She grabbed at his T-shirt, trying to pull that over his head at the same time as he clawed at the zipper of her pants, and eventually he batted her hands away, growling, “Let me.”
So she did, lying back on the grass as he got rid of the rest of her clothing and then did the same for himself, so the pair of them were finally naked.
It didn’t feel weird to be bare like this in the middle of a clearing with the sun beating down on them. There was no one around and no sound except the rush of the river and the burble of the creek nearby. No witnesses but the sun above their heads and whatever wildlife was passing by.
The grass was warm, the sun on her skin even warmer, and Zeke’s hands stroking her the warmest of all.
She arched beneath his hard, powerful body, glorying in the feel of his skin against hers, in the pressure of him pinning her to the earth. There was a raw, untamed quality to it all and that, too, was right. Because neither of them were tame deep down in their hearts. In their hearts, both of them were wild.
He kissed her hard, licking at her mouth and delivering his own nips, then raining kisses down along her throat, his teeth closing around the sensitive cords at the side of her neck. His hands roved, tracing the outline of her body, discovering the hills and valleys of her like a cartographer mapping the lines of the land. She wound her legs around his lean waist, pressing herself insistently against him, loving the press of his hard chest against her sensitive breasts, the length of his sex against the softness of hers.
Male and female, a primal meeting of bodies and yet even then, even down on the grass in the open air, it was more and she knew that.
It was a meeting of souls too.
He was panting, his hands down between her thighs, stroking her, intensifying the hunger until she was moving restlessly beneath him, desperate for more. And then there was a brief moment where he grabbed his discarded jeans, pulled out his wallet, and dealt with the protection. Then he was between her thighs, his hands sliding beneath her butt, lifting her, thrusting deep inside her.
Morgan gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pleasure uncurling, streaming through every part of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rocked against him, moving with him. He wasn’t careful this time, and he wasn’t gentle, his thrusts hard and deep, pushing her against the warm grass and dry earth.
She looked up into his face, fierce and hungry, his shoulders blocking out the sun above them, the darkness of his eyes smoldering like a fire in a coal seam.
He was magnificent like this, savage and wild, thrusting deeper, harder, his lips drawn back in a snarl. It didn’t frighten her—nothing about him frightened her—only made her want to be wild herself, so she loosened the chains and dug her nails into him. Clawed at his shoulders and back. Moved with him, urging him on.
He said her name, his voice so deep and rough it was almost unrecognizable, and she reached up, pulling his mouth down on hers so she could deliver her answer in the form of her own savage kiss.
It didn’t last long. There was too much pent-up need in both of them.
Zeke thrust one hand between them, finding the most sensitive part of her and stroking, then he gave one deep thrust and Morgan felt the pleasure spark like a solar flare, streaming through her entire body. She cried out in delight and ecstasy, feeling his hands hold her, gripping her tight as she shuddered beneath him.
And dimly through the storm, she felt his movements get wild and out of rhythm, his breathing hoarse in her ears. He thrust once, twice, and then he roared her name, his big body shuddering as the climax came for him too.